


Devil On My Shoulder

by bmcgeeparker



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, jamko, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 16:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmcgeeparker/pseuds/bmcgeeparker
Summary: During the partner swap at the end of Season 7, Jamie gets a late night phone call.
Relationships: Edit "Eddie" Janko/Jamie Reagan
Kudos: 10





	Devil On My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my latest work of Jamko fiction! This one was written very quickly, like it had a mind of its own. Inspired and /loosely/ based on Chris Stapleton's You Should Probably Leave. (I don't know why. Lots of country songs give me Jamko feels.) It is not necessary to know the song before reading, but feel free. It's a great song.
> 
> Disclaimer: I will never own anything to do with Blue Bloods or CBS. I just like writing about these characters. It helps me fulfill a long held dream to be a writer without the stress and deadlines of actually being a writer.

_All is quiet. The water is peaceful. It’s just me and my fishing pole, standing on the dock, where I’ve fished hundreds of times before. It’s never mattered to me if I caught anything. I just like the peace and quiet. The sound of the water rushing by. The stillness, so close to the bustling city, it feels out of place. My line tugs with a bite, then suddenly—_

The voice of Bruce Springsteen wakes me from my dream and I already know who’s calling.

“Ugh!” I roll over in bed and reach for my phone. A quick glance at the time through bleary eyes tells me that it is just about midnight.

“Some of us still need our beauty sleep, Janko,” I say by way of hello.

“Well _this_ beauty can’t sleep. I’m almost to your place. Just wanted to give you a chance to put some clothes on so you don’t come to the door in the buff.” I can hear the laughter in her voice, despite the tiredness that is also evident.

“I don’t sleep naked, Eddie. You know that.” Flinging the covers off, I sit up and switch on the light beside the bed.

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me in.” With that, the line goes dead.

I grab a shirt and pull it over my head as I walk out of the room. Within moments, I hear a knock on the door. She knows where I keep the spare key for emergencies, but she also knows the door will be chained at this time of night. Her knock sounds much more patient than I would have expected. Maybe she’s just that tired.

When I get the door open, she gives me a weak smile but doesn’t push her way in, as is her custom. I silently open the door wider and step aside for her to enter. It’s been a few weeks since she’s been over here, since we decided to keep our relationship professional, but she still kicks her shoes off and curls up comfortably on my couch.

The weeks since that night have been somewhat tricky to navigate. I mean, how do you admit you have feelings for someone you’ve spent nearly every day of the last several years with and then just go back to normal like you didn’t lay it all out there? But I would take the slightly awkward silences back over riding with an IAB mole any day. Riding with Patimkin isn’t really _that_ bad, but it definitely isn’t like riding with Eddie.

“One week down, three to go. How’s it going with Welch?”

In response, she just groans and drops her face into the couch cushion. I walk over to the kitchen to get drinks for the two of us. It’s too late for anything real hard, so I fish out a bottle of red wine that’s been hiding at the back of the cabinet for a while.

She raises her head from the cushion and finally responds.

“He just… _talks_ …so much.”

I pause to turn and give her a look that says, _Pot calling the kettle black?_

“No—I know I talk a lot. But Welch. Gah. He talks all day long. About himself. About his collars. About his dog. About his car. About the football championship he almost won in high school.” I hand her a glass and sit next to her on the couch. “It’s like he’s his own biggest fan.”

She takes a big gulp of wine, then rests her head on the cushion again. I chuckle softly then take a slow sip from my glass. When I set the glass down on the table, she opens her eyes.

“So how’s it been with _Brenda_?” She adds emphasis to my temporary partner’s first name, like it should mean something more than it does.

“Jealous?” I give her a side-eye glance, but she doesn’t miss a beat.

“Kinda. She gets to ride with one of the best cops in our precinct, all because she’s been working with the Rat Squad.”

“She hasn’t been that bad. But I wouldn’t want to make it a permanent arrangement. Let me tell you about our week.”

I don’t intend to tell her about Patimkin’s family history and her real reason for cooperating with IAB. That isn’t my story to tell. But I do give her a play-by-play of the almost-failed collar. Eddie sips her wine as I talk, and laughs or interjects with indignation where appropriate. By the time I’ve finished giving her the highlights of the rest of the week, she’s finished her wine and set the empty glass on the table next to mine, still half full.

“Refill?” I ask her. “Tomorrow should be your day off.”

“Nah, one is enough. I didn’t come here to get drunk.”

“Then why did you come here?” I don’t say it to be harsh. Mostly, I’m curious. We agreed we’d keep our relationship professional, and so far, we have. But it’s taken some work on our part to do that. We’ve had to limit how much time we spend together outside of work, especially when there is alcohol involved. If that “midweek Long Island destination wedding” taught us anything, it’s that keeping my feelings in check after drinking is not as easy as I thought it would be.

So her being here, after midnight, drinking wine, has definitely been off limits. The only time I’ve been to her place since Josh was the night we tried to call a truce with Welch and Patimkin and I walked her home after they accused us of spiking the drink. I didn’t even go upstairs, just to make sure I could control myself.

“I dunno.” She shifts on the couch so she’s a little closer to me and her hair brushes my hand where it rests on the back of the couch. “I just couldn’t sleep. Felt like I was wired and wouldn’t be getting any rest any time soon.”

I start absentmindedly running my fingers through her hair, and her eyes close slowly in response. We both stay quiet for a few minutes, then she opens her eyes again. I’ve shifted closer to her as well, without even realizing it. When she looks up at me, I see something in her eyes I vaguely recognize. A look she gave me once, during her rookie year, right before we kissed for the first time.

Then she clears her throat and looks away. I’m disappointed and grateful at the same time. I know that if she kissed me in this moment, I’d never want her to leave. I pull my hand away from her hair and place it safely in my lap so I won’t be tempted again, and she sits up a little.

“I should go,” she says reluctantly.

“You don’t have to. Neither of us have to work tomorrow.” She gives me a look to remind me of how bad that idea sounds. “Besides, you’ve been drinking. You don’t need to be driving _or_ walking home in that state.”

“It was one glass of wine, Reagan. I’m not wasted,” she argues.

“Still. It’s late. Better safe than sorry.” I don’t know why I’m fighting her on this. It’s like there’s a little devil on my shoulder, urging me to convince her that staying is a good idea, while the angel on the other shoulder that should be speaking reason is sleeping soundly.

She looks at me skeptically for a moment, then finally caves.

“Fine. Go get me a blanket. I’ll sleep here on the couch.”

I start to offer her the guest bedroom, then think better of it when I remember the last person to sleep there: Tara. So I stand up to go find a blanket somewhere. When I return a few minutes later, I’ve got a thick blanket I only use when it’s really cold outside as well as a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for her to sleep in. She didn’t ask for the clothes, but I figure they would be more comfortable than what she showed up in.

When I hand her the clothes, she gives me another skeptical look. “A Harvard shirt and NYPD sweatpants? Do you own anything else, Reagan?”

“Of course I do,” I say with a smile. “But I save these for the VIP guests.” She rolls her eyes and grins, but makes her way to the bathroom to change anyway. While she’s gone, I pick up a few little things around the room, then spot the wine glasses left on the table. I take my time walking them back to the kitchen, quickly finishing what’s left in mine when I hear the bathroom door open behind me.

“You might have just said goodbye to this shirt forever, Reagan,” she says, walking towards me. I’m surprised when I turn around to find her only a few feet away. “This is one of the softest shirts I’ve ever put on.”

“What do you expect?” I ask with a soft laugh. “It’s more than ten years old.”

“Well,” she replies, reaching for a glass out of my cabinet, “I’m never taking it off.”

She pours a glass a water and takes a big sip before I respond.

“Good luck explaining to all the ladies in the locker room why you’re wearing my shirt,” I say with a smirk. She gulps down the rest of her water and sets the glass on the counter.

“Not funny.” I can hear her bare feet following me across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, it’s a little funny,” I call over my shoulder. I hear her huff in frustration behind me, so I turn around to face her. Like before, she’s closer than I expected. She looks distressed, like she did that night she came over to tell me how she feels. When she looks like that, my resolve starts to crumble.

Taking a single step forward, I reach out and pull her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. She melts into me, bringing her arms around my waist. We stand like that for a minute or two before I get the courage to break the silence.

“You should get some sleep,” I say quietly into the top of her head. I pull away from her a little and look her in the eye. “Do you want one of my pillows?”

She’s still giving me that puppy dog look, and though she nods her head, she doesn’t let me go. I see her gaze drift briefly to my mouth, then back up to my eyes, and her arms tighten just the slightest.

“We’re partners,” I whisper.

“Not exactly,” she reminds me.

She’s right. We’re not partners. But we both know it’s only temporary.

Unless we decide to make it permanent.

There’s that devil on my shoulder again. Only this time, the whispering voice in my ear sounds a lot like Eddie.

“Not for the next three weeks.”

“Eddie,” I begin. “You’re making it really difficult for me to resist temptation right now.”

“Then stop fighting it and just kiss me.”

The words have barely left her mouth before I spring forward and close the distance between us. Her hands clench in my shirt, trying to pull me even closer, while one of my hands does the same in her hair. There is no trepidation or uncertainty in this kiss. Just pure hunger.

When her hands slip under my shirt, I feel my breath catch in my throat and I push her away.

“We can’t, Eddie,” I rasp out, trying to catch my breath. “We both know where this goes from here.”

“What’s the problem with that?” Her voice is low and scratchy like mine, but she just reaches out and pulls me back to her with a hand on my neck. Her lips trail from mine, down my jawline, to my neck. She sucks on a point below my ear, and that’s when my mind really goes fuzzy.

I begin asking myself why it’s so important for us to stay partners. Why have we been fighting for so long not to cross the line? Why can’t we go there, when it would be so easy to just ask for new partners? I think we both know that this would likely be the most intense relationship either of us has ever had, and there would be no turning back.

There is no turning back. Eddie’s lips land on mine again, and I feel like this has got to be the point of no return. Her hands slip under my shirt again and begin tugging it up. Once it’s over my head, I reach for the hem of her shirt— _my_ shirt—and pull her toward me. As I walk us backward to my bedroom, my hands explore the warmth of her back under the shirt and her fingers run through my hair.

I pause for just a moment when my legs hit the bed, but instead of collapsing down and taking her with me, I pull away again. My hands come up to rest on her cheeks and I look deeply into her eyes, searching for confirmation that this is really happening.

“Are you sure? We can still walk away. You haven’t seen anything you haven’t already seen in the locker room,” I finish with a light laugh.

She gives me her classic smile and leans up to peck my lips softly.

“Jamie, I’ve spent too long already walking away from you. It’s time to stop fighting it.”

I give her a grin, then let my hands drop to her waist so I can pull her flush up against me. Her hands push on my shoulders, which knocks me off balance and I fall to my back on the bed. With my arms wrapped around her, she falls easily with me.

Her legs straddle my waist and her hands begin roaming my bare chest. My eyes close at the sensation. Suddenly, I feel her hands disappear and my eyes fly open. She’s reaching for the hem of her shirt to tug it over her head. When it’s off, she leans down to trail kisses over my chest. My hands on her upper arms pull her up to my lips.

She kisses me slow and careful, savoring it. I can’t say I don’t feel the same. When I open my eyes, she’s staring back at me.

“Eddie, I…” I can’t get the words out. They’ve been on the tip of my tongue for so long and I’ve always bit them back that now I can’t make myself say it.

“It’s okay, Jamie. I know.”

“No. Before this goes any further, I have to tell you. I have no excuses for waiting so long, and I don’t have some big flowery speech to eloquently express how I feel. But I need you to know, I need you to hear the words from me. I love you, Eddie Janko. I’ve loved you for so long that I can’t even tell you when it started, but I do. I love you.”

Her eyes are glistening with tears in the glow of the bedside lamp. She leans down to give me a deep kiss, then moves to my ear.

“I love you too, Jamie,” she whispers. Her breath on my ear sends a shiver down my spine. With her pressed against my chest, I wrap my arms around her and flip her onto her back gently. I begin kissing a line down her neck and chest. When I plant a kiss near her bellybutton, she giggles.

Soon, the rest of our clothes are shed and the rest of the night is spent exploring each other slowly and lovingly. I never expected being with Eddie to feel like this, but she was right. I am most definitely spoiled for life.

Hours later, my eyes flutter open and the morning sun is streaming through the window. I’m guessing it must be about 6 AM and Eddie is still sound asleep beside me. I’m not exactly sure what time we finally fell asleep, but I know it wasn’t more than four hours ago. For a split second, I consider getting up to make a pot of coffee, but reconsider when I notice the way the sun lands on her shoulder. I take a moment to just enjoy watching her sleep.

Then I start to panic that she’ll wake up and think it was all a mistake. She didn’t mean what she said; it was just the heat of the moment. She’ll regret all of it and want to rush out of here as quickly as she can.

As if reading my thoughts in her dreams, she rolls over to face me. Her head ends up on my shoulder while her hand roams my chest and stomach some more. Her eyes remain closed, but there’s a smile on her face. She snuggles in close for a minute, then I hear her sleepy morning voice.

“Good morning.”

At the sound of her voice, my panic melts away. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her in as close as I can get her. I place a kiss on her head and hear her sigh in contentment.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

She looks up at me with a huge smile and mischief in her eyes.

“Alright, alright. I get it,” I laugh. “Do you want to stay in bed for a while, or should I go make some coffee?”

“Mmm. Both,” she replies.

When I give her a confused look, she laughs into my chest.

“Stay in bed, _then_ go make some coffee.”

I laugh again, then roll her onto her back. My lips find her neck, a spot I recently discovered is very sensitive, and begin leaving feather-light kisses. She moans softly at the feeling.

“That sounds perfect,” I punctuate each word with a kiss.

We both know there is still a lot to discuss. Decisions to be made, career moves to consider. But we’ve got three weeks to figure out all the details. A lot can happen in three weeks.

Right now, I just want to enjoy the moment with the woman I love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> See you next time! :)  
> -Bethany


End file.
